


Gloves

by Lenadexil, RogueKynd



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones (Video Game 2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, RP fanfiction, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenadexil/pseuds/Lenadexil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueKynd/pseuds/RogueKynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot based on our headcanon of how Gared got gloves between episodes 2 and 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a fanwork and we claim no ownership of the characters or the original source material.  
>  **Notes:** This is an RP fanfiction divided into sections. The “—-” mark being the indication of when character POV switches.
> 
> Can also be read on [tumblr](http://xelorgani.tumblr.com/post/116477751242/gloves).
> 
> **Lenadexil:** Jon Snow  
>  **RogueKyne:** Gared Tuttle
> 
> Beta read by my good buddy [JG/MasallCollegeUnderstudy](http://masallcollegeunderstudy.tumblr.com/).

“Seven hells…” Gared grumbled, stepping outside into the windy cold blowing what almost felt like literal clumps of ice straight into his face as he walked across the yard.

Night was beginning to fall, and on this ‘lovely’ night of a frozen hell, Frostfinger had put Gared on watch duty atop the Wall. Gared was beginning to think his death was being planned just so Frostfinger wouldn’t lose his bet on when exactly he would die…

Pulling his fur cloak tighter around himself, particularly shielding his bare hands, the ex-squire finally made it to the lift. Entering it, he was about to signal to be taken up when he saw a man coming towards him. Vaguely making out the thick, black curls swaying wildly due to the blizzard and somewhat stern expression on their face, he could tell it was unmistakably Jon Snow.

“Jon?” Gared blinked when he’d come in and joined him by his side, doing the job of telling the man above to take them up for him. “You’re coming up, too?”

——-

Jon turned to face Gared and nodded at him. “Yes. We usually partner up for watches and I offered to be yours tonight,” he couldn’t help the fondness he felt at the expression of wonder on the shorter man’s face.

Whereas Frostfinger seemed determined to be harsh towards Gared since his arrival, Jon had been drawn to him, feeling a kindred spirit within the other man, and began to form a bond he wanted to nurture and bring to fruition. When he had heard Frostfinger was sending Gared up for watch that night, on his own no less, Jon had said he would partner with him, not wanting to leave him up there by his lonesome. Just as he had had Commander Mormont, he found he wanted to teach and guide Gared, to unlock the potential he knew was in the other man.

He could easily remember the time he had sat alone some nights and one of his friends would come to sit with him, to not allow him to be alone. He was well aware Gared had gone through many harrowing incidents before he came to the Wall, and had been through more, albeit slightly less harsh, once he’d arrived.

“Plus, it goes much faster when you have company.”

Experience had taught him that was true as well. You could only pass the time for so long when you were alone at the top of the Wall. But having someone to talk to made the watch shifts seem to add up to no time at all.

——-

“Aye,” Gared agreed, “Can’t argue with that.”

Jon was right. Time passed a lot quicker when you had someone with you to spend it with; and for Gared, who frankly already had enough of this blasted cold, he wanted his shift to be over with as soon as possible. Although, with exactly who was accompanying him on his watch tonight, he found he couldn’t complain about it too much.

Daring to sneak a peek at the man next to him, he privately took in some of Jon’s features that had become a thing of personal interest to him: Black, curly hair; deep brown eyes; fair, ivory skin; and full pink lips – Gared had to make himself stop staring before his inappropriate gawking was noticed.

_'Oy, Tuttle… Get ahold of yourself,’_ he inwardly chastised. Now definitely wasn’t the time to start thinking about those strange thoughts he’d been having over his companion the last few days. Especially when said companion was just a few inches away, alone with him inside the lift.

No, for now, he would only admit the ‘bastard's’ company was the most preferred out of everyone else he’d met at Castle Black. And not just because he happened to be the one Gared seemingly got along with best…

Wrapping his arms tighter around himself, with his hands tucked beneath his biceps, he glanced around, wondering how much further until they reached the top. Gared would not even attempt to step out of the center and look down, as every time he had made his head dizzy and his stomach queasy. While not terrible at dealing with heights, being on a lift that appeared and felt as though it could break at any moment while being high up in the air was extremely unsettling for him.

“I’ll never get used to this…”

——-

“I thought I wouldn’t myself, but…I’ve gotten there.” Jon did the honor and saw they were reaching the top. Having seen that Gared wasn’t great with these sorts of heights, he gave him a comforting smile. “We’re nearly there, then we can get onto solid ground.”

He took a moment to study the other man, the chestnut-colored hair, his soulful brown eyes that seemed to convey every emotion he felt, the slightly tanned skin from his years of working on his family’s farm and then his time as a squire. Jon found himself unable to deny Gared's attractiveness, and he knew others at Castle Black had noticed his appeal as well.

He shook his head to rid his mind of those thoughts, bringing his focus back to his current surroundings. Raising an eyebrow as they reached the top of the lift, Jon noticed Gared had his hands tucked under his arms beneath his cloak and tilted his head curiously. Usually, the brunette would touch the wall of ice at their sides as he got off the lift; it seemed he liked the added assurance that he was on solid ground again. He had to admit though, it was a very cold night, one of the colder ones he had seen.

“Come on, we’re down near the end tonight,” he led him off the lift, hearing the sigh Gared let out at the feel of the ice under their feet and smiled to himself. Like many things the brunette did, Jon thought it adorable. _‘Easy…Just stop right there. I don’t need to be thinking about anyone that way as it is…’_

Jon put a bit of distance between him and Gared, hoping to stop the thoughts that were running through his mind, the tempting thoughts that had been there for days now. He led him along, the flames from the torches illuminating Gared’s face out of the corner of his eyes, causing more ideas to arise in his mind. Sighing in relief once he saw their post for the night. “Well, here we are.”

——-

_Thank the Gods for solid ground_ , Gared thought as his heels made contact with the more stable ice-covered floor of the Wall. No safer than any other place around Castle Black, but Gared would gladly take it over that wonky lift any time.

Despite that however, the even harsher cold air that came from being on the Wall making it feel as though Gared might as well be wearing nothing was already becoming a nightmare. So much that the ex-squire had to resist moving closer to Jon, who’d put some distance between them, in hopes of stealing just a little of his body heat.

Tempting as it may be to do that in many ways than he cared to admit, he’d force himself to deal with it until they stopped by a fire. If he’d planned to be a ranger any time soon, it wouldn’t look so good to be spotted with Jon Snow 'coddling’ him yet again, especially if it were by Finn or Frostfinger. And even more so if Jon was actually kind enough to lend him his own cloak…

Keeping up as best he could with the older member of the Night’s Watch, Gared’s hands were now tucked so firmly under his arms that he was sure he was cutting off circulation; if the cold had not managed to do that already.

“Finally!” Gared exclaimed, overjoyed when their post had come into view at last, and in particular, the fire sizzling nearby. Hurrying over to the opening of the Wall, he immediately stuck out his hands, and instantly felt some relief. He acknowledged he must look like a fool, but he trusted Jon would take pity to not belittle him over it. Hopefully.

——-

A small snicker escaped Jon’s lips, the outburst from Gared causing another fond warmth to spread through his chest. He hadn’t been joking when he’d told Gared he wouldn’t get used to the cold…no one got used to the cold. The smile that had been on his face vanished just as quickly as it had appeared when he stopped at Gared’s side. One look down at Gared’s hands had their trip up the wall making so much more sense.

“Gared…where are your gloves?” dark eyes stared at the bare hands, seeing how close Gared held them to the fire. Why wouldn’t Gared have put them on if he was that cold? Unless…

Jon shook his head in complete disbelief. Surely Gared would have a pair on him, knowing he would be up on the Wall for hours on watch. To be up here, with the winds and ice, for that long without gloves. Most recruits only had to look at Frostfinger’s hand to know how horrid an idea that was.

Raising his eyes from Gared’s bare hands, he tried to meet his gaze, quickly noting that he was avoiding him. Jon frowned in worry when he realized that Gared must not have his gloves, which meant that he had come up here with no protection for his hands. He prayed to be proven wrong, that Gared would pull them from his pocket.

“Please tell me you did not come up here without a pair…”

——-

“Uhh, um…” Gared stammered. Feeling more like a fool now, he kept his light-brown irises from Jon, trying to think of a way to explain, without coming off sounding like a complete idiot, why precisely he didn’t have his gloves with him.

“I, uh, I f-forgot them.” So much for not sounding like an idiot. The way Jon’s eyes narrowed spelled out fairly well what he must be thinking of him over that statement.

_'Fantastic job, Tuttle.’_ Cursing his own negligence and stupidity, Gared attempted to offer a more valid reason to save some bit of his credibility.

“I, I had every intention to! I just, I forgot about it when Frostfinger gave me my assignment, and… I don’t think he’d let me waste a moment to go get a pair from the armory.”

As much of a load of horseshit that might have sounded like, Gared was certain he made his point. If he had really gone and asked Frostfinger, whom everyone knew was a grizzled, difficult man, if he could leave his post to retrieve a mere pair of gloves, he’d probably have told him he could try doing his duty naked if he wanted to forget his armor.

Nonetheless, it was still inexcusable. The reality was that he’d procrastinated on getting his own gloves for days, regardless of how many times he reminded himself once he saw how red and frostbitten his hands were becoming. And seeing them now, revealed by the fire to have chafe all over the backside, he knew he wasn’t doing himself any favors that he’d forgotten once again. Nor would it do any good to blame it on Frostfinger.

Glancing at Jon, who shook his head at him, Gared frowned, knowing he’d disappointed him and said apologetically, “Right after our relief gets here, I’ll go right to the armory and get a pair. If I don’t, you can personally punish me as you see fit… I seem to need it,” he added self-deprecatingly.

——-

Jon’s face fell when he heard that tone come into Gared’s words again. The ex-squire had a nasty habit of putting himself down, as if he was always failing, as if he weren’t allowed to make simple mistakes. It was one quality of Gared’s that Jon actually hated.

“It was just a mistake, Gared. You don’t need to be punished…” He recalled something then; what Sam had given him. His friend that had said he “got in enough trouble as it was, at least be prepared.” Jon rolled his eyes at the time, but now he was grateful Sam had given him the extra pair of gloves as he pulled them out of his pocket.

“Here,” he pulled Gared’s hands away from the fire, observing just how badly they were chafed along the backs of them, how dry and cracked his skin was getting. He made a mental note to go to Maester Aemon once he was off his watch to get a salve to help them heal.

Gazing up, Jon could see the protest already forming in Gared’s eyes; knowing him as well as he did, he knew an excuse was coming. “Gared, please…”

——-

Shaking his head rapidly, Gared limply tried pulling his hands back.

“No, Jon. That’s all right,” he politely declined. Though he appreciated his kindness, he realized he had been relying too much on Jon to bail him out of his blunders. And while he trusted him above everyone else here, he fully acknowledged he had to learn to do things on his own and learn to face the consequences of his actions head on. Especially so if and when the time came that he would have to…

The ex-squire immediately purged the thought; he would not think of that now. Would not think of Lord Forrester’s last words to him, or what his uncle might be planning to have him do about the North Grove.

“I thank you, but I can’t always depend on you, can I? I’m sure my hands can stand a couple more hours,” he smiled in an effort to put Jon’s mind at ease, despite the fact he didn’t quite buy it himself.

——-

A gentle smile appeared on Jon’s face, taking one of his hands by the wrist. “We are brothers now, Gared. Men of the Night’s Watch. That means that we look after one another,” he carefully slid one glove onto his hand before doing the same to the other. Tugging them down onto his wrists, and meeting his eyes.

“These are a spare pair I have and now, they’re yours. Keep them, all right?” he insisted, seeing the uncertainty in Gared’s eyes. He held both of his hands between his own, offering the heat to warm Gared’s chilled ones. “Besides, you don’t want to end up like Frostfinger, do you?” he couldn’t stop the chuckle when the other’s brown eyes went wide at the thought.

“And you didn’t ask for them. I offered them. I want you to keep them,” he had a feeling with how much Gared appreciated his help in all other fields that he would keep them. _'I hope he does…’_

——-

Gared shuddered at the idea of losing his fingers to frostbite, among other things, and decided to accept Jon’s offer after all. Allowing him to take his wrists and put the gloves on his hands himself as he kindly reminded him that he was a brother of the Night’s Watch, and they looked after their own.

_'A brother, huh,’_ he liked the sound of that, tilting his head up to meet his 'brother’s’ face that held a tender expression, not minding in the least he was still holding his hands in his. Making them feel warmer than they had just a moment ago

In fact, Gared’s whole body felt much warmer; with Jon standing closer to him, still holding his hands in a comfortably firm grip even moments after already putting the gloves on. Being able to more clearly study Jon’s beautiful, captivating features so near to his face. He could feel his heart pounding and knew he had to pull away less he ended up making a bigger mistake than simply forgetting gloves.

“Thank you, Jon,” he finally said, breaking the silence as he carefully freed his hands. “I promise I will wear them from now on.”

That was a promise Gared Tuttle fully intended to keep, flexing his hands to adjust and rubbing over them, considering them a personal, even if plain, gift given to him by Jon Snow. Another thing, along with so much else, he’s already done for him.

Believing to be warm enough now, he gets out from in front of the fire and takes a seat on one of the crates by the opening. Jon took his place across from him standing up, giving him a full view for Gared to secretly admire. Thinking that even just standing there, he looked like a true hero. His hero…

Meeting those dark, gorgeous eyes once more, his face brightened radiantly. “I mean it, Jon. I sincerely thank you; for everything,” he said, wishing he could tell him everything he felt; about how deep his gratitude truly went. But he would settle on this, content with expressing his thankfulness through simple, friendly words.

——-

“You’re welcome, Gared. I can tell this means a lot to you…” Jon placed a hand on Gared’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before pulling it away. He wanted to keep close to him, to continue to share their warmth; however, he forced himself back. He didn’t trust himself to stay close, tempted to lean in closer, to press his lips to Gared’s in a way that couldn’t possibly be taken as brotherly.

He stole a look at Gared’s face, the small smile lightened up in the firelight and nodded once before he sat down opposite of his companion. “Well, we have some time ahead of us still. Now that you’re properly bundled up, we can truly begin our watch."

Jon watched Gared a moment more, seeing the gratitude filling his eyes as he scrutinized the gloves, as if it was one of the best gifts he could ever receive. Against his desires, he willed himself to turn his gaze out into the vast blackness that was the north, settling in for their watch. Alone with the man who was fast changing his life.


End file.
